


Lost

by flibbertygigget



Series: The Other 51 [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Duel, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world finally crashes down, it is raining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

When the world finally crashes down, it is raining. Appropriate, Burr thinks as he stares at the newspaper left in the front hall. Even the heavens, it seems, are crying for how it had fallen apart, how they never stopped to consider the path that they now found themselves at the logical end of. But, no, heaven would not cry for him, not after everything he had done to and with Hamilton. His course had been sent downward the moment that he had locked eyes with Hamilton and thought that the other man was beautiful. 

Burr remembers another rainy morning. It had been during the Levi Weeks case, when Hamilton would sneak into his bed during the night and Burr would awake to find their bodies intertwined and Hamilton brushing lazy kisses up and down his neck. That morning had been different, for somehow the steady drumming of rain at the windows had hypnotized Burr. At least, that's what he told himself had happened. What else could explain how he threw away all his morals and inhibitions and kissed Hamilton back.

Yes, even that morning, in that innocent, sinful happiness, they had been doomed. Burr had been too slow to respond, or Hamilton had already said too much, or they had simply been driven apart by the raging animal that was politics. Whatever the cause of the rift, they had never again been so in sync. The Weeks case had ended, and they went back to being sworn enemies. Sometimes Burr wonders if he could have stopped it, made that morning extend beyond its narrow bounds. Perhaps if Burr had... but, no, he had met Hamilton a lifetime ago, and he is barely able to think of the kiss even now. He blushes and awaits lightning to descend from heaven, smiting him.

If sodomy hadn't been enough, murder will certainly damn him. Burr knows that he ought to be afraid, or angry, or anything but numb, numb, numb. But, no, the sorrow is like ice in his chest. He cannot feel. He cannot do anything but think of how Hamilton is now lost forever.

Burr should have shot to the side, to the ground, to the sky, anything. Burr should have allowed the insults and slander to slide away like water over bare skin, not bogged him down until he was drowning in desperation and hatred. Burr should have never spoken to the beautiful, terrible man that had been his damnation. 

The headline screams bloody words. The streets wail with lamentations for the fallen hero. Burr should hide, should cry, should do anything but sit here, drink on hand. But instead he closes his eyes and tries to imagine that this is another time, another rainy morning.


End file.
